


You will always find him in the kitchen at parties

by Mssilverwoods



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Drunken Flirting, F/M, Fluff, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25665610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mssilverwoods/pseuds/Mssilverwoods
Summary: Mulder is at a party. He knows it’s a party because he is in the kitchen, as usual.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	You will always find him in the kitchen at parties

Mulder is at a party. He knows it’s a party because he is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter in a place that’s seen better days, it’s a homage to mustard yellow. It’s his favoured room when he is coerced into attending such an event. He is always in the kitchen at parties. 

Mulder isn’t sure which part of this party means hanging around with a mystery drink on his own or why he’s here at all. He hasn’t drunk very much but the questions of who, what, when and why elude him. 

He isn’t drunk, he walks a straight line along the floor tiles. The traffic cops would high five him for accuracy. He concludes that it isn’t a very good party. He’s still hungry but he’s not sure what for. Food or sex? Food. Good job he’s in the kitchen.

Probably.

Mulder wonders if the red headed woman who has joined him might know whose party it is. Joined could be optimistic since she’s ignored him completely. He decides she’s not really his type. She gives of the impression of being fearfully efficient when she commands up a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of decent red which he was sure weren’t there before, only serving to highlight his incompetence. 

He wonders if he ought to stop thinking about types, he is an open minded modern man, he seems to think. He’s also a sloth. Then she turns and catches him staring. Her eyes, her brilliant smile and curves all command his addled mind completely. She glances at him and then the wine, he senses that she has a plan forming. 

Mulder thinks he might know her and his lips tingle. Maybe he has kissed her once. This begs the question why he isn’t doing that now.

“Have you seen the corkscrew?” She asks brightly, waving the bottle at him.

Oh. Something flicks through his mind about a good screw but his apparent wit may have been left near the punch bowl.

“Could try this drawer?” Mulder shuffles to one side, not aware of knowing anything about nothing least of all corkscrews, but apparently he does, as she declares him to be ‘her clever boy’, her tongue running over her lip does nice fluffy things to his libido.

She presents both corkscrew and the bottle to him and he eyes it up, and wonders if he should just shoot the top off it but he doesn’t think he has a gun. He sighs and removes the cork with reasonable grace. He’s done this before, with her. She is gazing at his forearms.

“Do you want some?” She’s already pouring so he accepts and chimes a wine glass with hers.

“Cheers, to whoever is hosting this party.” Mulder takes a sip and winces, smiles as she does the same. It’s not as good as they thought.

“Don’t you know?” She stands between his legs and he decides she is his only type. “I have no idea, I got a little bit lost. Why are you in the kitchen at this party?”

He looks down at his t-shirt and jeans and vaguely recalls he wears a suit for his job, whatever that is, “Passing through.”

“Nobody passes through a kitchen at a party, unless you’re a ghost but I don’t believe in them, but I know a man who does.” She wrinkles her nose and he wants to kiss it. “Where are your friends? Wife?”

“I don’t have a wife yet.” Mulder enjoys her frank, head to toe appreciation, “Are you interested in applying?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I need to think about it,” she decides eyeing his mouth. Mulder knows he ought to feel disappointed but there’s a memory of a proposal and her saying yes that excites him.

“When do you think you’ll know?” His teasing words are cut off by her lips and he definitely remembers doing this. Only the dead forget, which seems strange as he thinks that this might have happened too, and he never forget that. He likes quick decision making.

Mulder is compelled to take her through the hall, past the enormous pile of coats. What is it about parties that means the carpet is always crunchy and there is a couple making out on the stairs whilst people step past them? Maybe this is the place to be. He wonders about taking her again the wall but she’s dragging him past them.

They crash through a pair of doors, and into the night air as one, in a complicated, panting, messy jigsaw of arms, legs and lips.

“Scully!” He declares her name and then looks down at his dishevelled partner with rapture, recognition and relief, he’s not going crazy. Or anymore mad than he was before.

‘Hi!” Scully breathes, and makes no move to unwrap herself from him, “Mulder, what happened?”

“The Lone Gunmen’s house warming,” Mulder sighs. He can’t offer any further explanation, his lawless three friends have been indiscreetly trying to match-make for years without knowing his relationship with Scully had reached ‘third base’ as Langley so eloquently termed it, without them noticing.

Scully looks thoughtfully at him, “I’m applying for a vacancy as I remember.”

“I’m sure we can find a way to fill it...” He expects an eye roll and is surprised by her hips instead. Laughing, he takes her home. 

Later he’ll let her know the job was hers years ago, but it’s always good to have a thorough appraisal.


End file.
